


A Necessary Evil

by TheTimelessChild0



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Minor Injuries, Sickfic, Wetting, the doctor wriggles because its cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:13:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23627485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTimelessChild0/pseuds/TheTimelessChild0
Summary: The Doctor is in pain. Her solution-unorthodox. Effect-immediate.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	A Necessary Evil

He had attempted to hide it from her. But, of course, both emotional and physical pain emanated off of him as if he was an open book..at least when in the company of Dr Martha Jones. 

“How long have you had trouble..you know,” Martha asked, sparing him some pride by being vague. 

“Just a day,” he shrugged. Instead of taking his word for it, she pressed on his bladder. The Doctor gasped, and crossed his legs. “Oi!” he protested. 

“That’s _more_ than a day,” Martha pointed out. 

The Doctor looked away, still not liking the conversation. 

“Have you tried Radolin?” she double-checked. 

The Doctor rolled his eyes. “Of course, first thing I tried..” he drawled. 

Martha went over to the console and typed something on the keyboard. The Doctor breathed as much as he could without feeling about to _burst._ The other Doctor tried to ignore the wriggling Time Lord in the background. 

“You’re not going to like this..” she noted, looking at the screen.

“What?” The Doctor asked, his head snapping up from where it was supervising his tapping feet. 

“I know how this happened,” Martha sighed. 

“It was because of that night we spent in that cell, hanging on a wall. You looked more like a corkscrew than a man. And don’t make up some lie about why your legs were crossed, we’re past that.” she continued. 

“ _Clearly_ ,” the Doctor blushed. He was currently crossing his legs. 

“Your retention is due to your bladder trying several times to let go where you were hanging. It’s feeling cheated, ignored. In a way you can say it’s psychosomatic,” Dr Jones explained. 

“So..how do we fix it?” the Doctor clapped his hands impatiently. 

Martha winced. He really was _not_ going to like it. 

“You have to give your bladder what it wanted” she introduced. 

The Doctor stared blankly at her. 

“When you were locked up, it wanted you to..” she gestured down his trousers. 

His eyes widened. “I have to..” the Doctor raised an eyebrow in disbelief. 

Martha nodded an affirmative. 

The Doctor swayed his hips, as his bladder confirmed it was what it wanted as well. 

“No nonono. No way, not in front of you, not alone, not _ever_ ..if I can help it,” the Doctor objected, surrendering to the fact it would probably happen by _accident_ later in his life/lives.

“Okay, first of all, I should be here. I know you well enough, you're hardwired to clench up at the first sign of a spurt. I’ll be here the whole time. No judgement, full support,” Martha smiled encouragingly at him.

“Can I at least sit down for this?” he whined, accepting the solution. 

“Maybe at some point. Let’s start standing up,” she instructed. 

“So..how do I do this..?” the Doctor asked, uncertainly. If he’d ever done this on _purpose_ before, it was a looong time ago and he’d long since forgotten the circumstances. 

“Start by closing your eyes,” Martha suggested. 

“Focus on the weight in your bladder, and spread your legs,” she advised. If her earlier prodding told her the truth, he was full enough to start at the very least _leaking_ at a big enough gap. 

A spurt emerged. The Doctor forced his mouth shut, trying his best not to react or more importantly, stop what was happening. His bladder closed by default, twice, letting another spurt out. 

“Mhm..this feels wrong,” he mumbled. He tried to imagine a large waterfall directly in front of him. 

It worked, somewhat. A small trickle started. The Doctor was too full to care anymore. He let it come, letting it flow at its own pace. Even such a small amount, with its narrow width, brought him some long-overdue _relief_. 

“It’s happening. I’m going,” he stated, assuming that Martha couldn’t yet see it. 

“Just keep going until you feel a nice wet patch,” Martha encouraged. 

The Doctor nodded. “Could you..” he hesitated. “Make some noise..” he requested. 

Martha smiled. He was ignoring all his usual instincts. She proceeded to imitate the sound of peeing. 

The Doctor knew it might be temporary, but it nevertheless opened the floodgates properly. He could feel the stream as it was normally; thick, steady and uncontrolled. 

He smiled, basking in the sensation of his trousers being saturated. 

Martha made no comment on the spread of urine across his front. It had already begun trailing down his leg, when she sighed loudly in satisfaction. The Doctor snapped out of it. Looking straight at Martha, his face flamed.

“Oh, great,” he sighed in frustration. 

“Sorry. Now let’s try sitting down,” Martha invited, pointing to a chair next to the console. 

The Doctor shook his arms, attempting to keep up his spirits, and sat down. 

“Lean forward, bottom as close to the back of the chair as you can,” she instructed. The Doctor complied. “Hands on knees..” he put his hands on his knees, folding them as if listening to a wry serious story. 

“Deep breaths..” Martha continued. As soon as he exhaled, she repeated the earlier noises. 

The Doctor breathed, focusing on the noises. He felt a trickle reappear and concentrated deeply. 

_I want this. I want to pee. I need to pee. Now. Here._ he told himself. As easily, as if he’d been in the loo, the Doctor once again peed undeterred. 

The stream still felt oddly strained, so the Doctor leaned back instead, watching as the slow picked up speed, and warmed his thighs again. He kept his eyes closed until he heard it splatter on the floor. He tilted his head, observing the puddle forming under the chair. 

“There, there..there we go,” he whispered to himself. The Doctor was now actively peeing on the floor. He smiled as the puddle grew, approaching Martha. 

She had the foresight to move out of the way unnoticed, letting the Time Lord continue to utterly and completely _piss himself_. 

It took almost 10 more seconds for the stream to _finally_ stop. 

“Are you done?” Martha asked quietly, and kindly. 

Remaining relaxed in all muscles, the Doctor pressed on his bladder and squeezed out imaginary pee. “Yep,” he stated, nodding exhaustedly. He stepped out of his puddle as if nothing had happened. 

“That’s all of it,” he sighed in relief and utter joy, letting some stray drops appearing out of nowhere, fall beneath him.

“Wonderful. Nice job. Proud of you,” Martha patted his shoulder approvingly. 

The Doctor strode off to shower, and Martha left to grab his spare trousers for him. The TARDIS, naturally, took care of the mess, which the ship didn’t blame him for.

_When you’ve gotta go, you’ve gotta go..._


End file.
